1. One hundred years.
It doesn't matter if we all die, ambition in the back of a black car, in a high building there is so much to do, going home time, a story on the radio.
Something small falls out of your mouth and we laugh, a prayer for something better, a prayer for something better, please love me, meet my mother, but the fear takes hold, creeping up the stairs in the dark waiting for the death blow, waiting for the death blow, waiting for the death blow.
Stroking your hair as the patriots are shot, fighting for freedom on the television, sharing the world with slaughtered pigs, have we got everything? She struggles to get away.
The pain and the creeping feeling, a little black haired girl, waiting for Saturday, the death of her father pushing her. Pushing her white face into the mirror, aching inside me and turn me round, just like the old days, just like the old days, just like the old days, just like the old days.
Caressing an old man and painting a lifeless face, just a piece of new meat in a clean room, the soldiers close in under a yellow moon, all shadows and deliverance under a black flag, a hundred years of blood, crimson, the ribbon tightens round my throat, I open my mouth and my head bursts open, a sound like a tiger thrashing in the water, thrashing in the water. Over and over, we die one after the other, over and over, we die one after the other, after the other, after the other, after the other, after the other.
It feels like a hundred years, one hundred years, one hundred years, one hundred years, one hundred years.
2. A short term effect.
Movement, no movement, just a falling bird, cold as it hits the bleeding ground, he lived and died, catch sight, cover me with earth, draped in black, static, white sound. A day without substance, a change of thought, an atmosphere that rots with time, colours that flicker in water, a short term effect.
Scream, as she tries to push him over, helpless and sick, with teeth of madness, jump, jump, dance and sing, sideways across the desert, a charcoal face, bites my hand, time is sweet, derange and disengage everything. A day without substance, a change of thought, the atmosphere rots with time, colours that flicker in water, a short term effect, a short term effect.
An echo and a stranger's hand, a short term effect. An echo and a stranger's hand, a short term effect.
3. The hanging garden.
Creatures kissing in the rain, shapeless in the dark again, in the hanging garden please don't speak, in the hanging garden no one sleeps.
Catching haloes on the moon, gives my hands the shapes of angels, in the heat of the night the animals scream, in the heat of the night walking into a dream. Fall, fall, fall, fall, into the walls, jump, jump, out of time, fall, fall, fall, fall, out of the sky, cover my face as the animals cry, in the hanging garden.
Creatures kissing in the rain, shapeless in the dark again, in a hanging garden change the past, in a hanging garden wearing furs and masks. Fall, fall, fall, fall, into the walls, jump, jump, out of time, fall, fall, fall, fall, out of the sky, cover my face as the animals cry, in the hanging garden, cover my face as the animals cry in the hanging garden…
4. Siamese twins.
I chose an eternity of this, like falling angels the world disappeared, laughing into the fire, is it always like this? Flesh and blood and the first kiss, the first colours, the first kiss.
We writhed under a red light, voodoo smile, siamese twins. A girl at the window looks at me for an hour, then everything falls apart, broken inside me it falls apart. The walls and the ceiling move in time, push a blade into my hands, slowly up the stairs and into the room, is it always like this? Dancing in my pocket, worms eat my skin, she glows and grows with arms outstretched, her legs around me, in the morning I cried.
Leave me to die, you won't remember my voice, I walked away and grew old, you never talk, we never smile, I scream, you're nothing, I don't need you any more, you're nothing. It fades and spins, fades and spins, sing out loud, we all die, laughing into the fire, is it always like this? Is it always like this? Is it always like this?
5. The figurehead.
Sharp and open, leave me alone and sleeping less every night, as the days become heavier and weighted, waiting in the cold light. A noise, a scream tears my clothes as the figurines tighten with spiders inside them, and dust on the lips of a vision of hell, I laughed in the mirror for the first time in a year.
A hundred other words blind me with your purity, like an old painted doll in the throes of dance, I think about tomorrow. Please let me sleep, as I slip down the window, freshly squashed fly, you mean nothing, you mean nothing.
I can lose myself in Chinese art and American girls, all the time lose me in the dark, please do it right. Run into the night, I will lose myself tomorrow, crimson pain, my heart explodes, my memory in a fire and someone will listen, at least for a short while, I can never say no to anyone but you.
Too many secrets, too many lies, writhing with hatred. Too many secrets, please make it good tonight, but the same image haunts me, in sequence, in despair of time, I will never be clean again, I touched her eyes, pressed my stained face, I will never be clean again. Touch her eyes, press my stained face, I will never be clean again…
6. A strange day.
Give me your eyes that I might see the blind man kissing my hands, the sun is humming, my head turns to dust as he plays on his knees. And the sand and the sea grows, I close my eyes, move slowly through drowning waves, going away on a strange day.
And I laugh as I drift in the wind, blind dancing on a beach of stone, cherish the faces as they wait for the end, a sudden hush across the water, and we're here again, and the sand and the sea grows, I close my eyes, move slowly through drowning waves, going away on a strange day.
My head falls backs and the walls crash down, and the sky and the impossible explode, held for one moment I remember a song, an impression of sound, then everything is gone forever, a strange day.
7. Cold.
Scarred, your back was turned, curled like an embryo, take another face, you will be kissed again. I was cold as I mouthed the words and crawled across the mirror, I wait, await the next breath, your name like ice into my heart.
A shallow grave, a monument to the ruined age, ice in my eyes and eyes like ice don't move, screaming at the moon, another past time, your name like ice into my heart.
Everything as cold as life, can no-one save you? Everything as cold as silence and you will never say a word, your name like ice into my heart.
8. Pornography.
A hand in my mouth, a life spills into the flowers, we all look so perfect as we all fall down, in an electric glare the old man cracks with age, she found his last picture in the ashes of the fire. An image of the queen echoes round the sweating bed, sour yellow sounds inside my head, in books and films, and in life, and in heaven, the sound of slaughter as your body turns, but it's too late, but it's too late.
One more day like today and I'll kill you, a desire for flesh and real blood, I'll watch you drown in the shower, pushing my life through your open eyes, I must fight this sickness, find a cure, I must fight this sickness.
It doesn't matter if we all die, ambition in the back of a black car, in a high building there is so much to do, going home time, a story on the radio.
Something small falls out of your mouth and we laugh, a prayer for something better, a prayer for something better, please love me, meet my mother, but the fear takes hold, creeping up the stairs in the dark waiting for the death blow, waiting for the death blow, waiting for the death blow.
Stroking your hair as the patriots are shot, fighting for freedom on the television, sharing the world with slaughtered pigs, have we got everything? She struggles to get away.
The pain and the creeping feeling, a little black haired girl, waiting for Saturday, the death of her father pushing her. Pushing her white face into the mirror, aching inside me and turn me round, just like the old days, just like the old days, just like the old days, just like the old days.
Caressing an old man and painting a lifeless face, just a piece of new meat in a clean room, the soldiers close in under a yellow moon, all shadows and deliverance under a black flag, a hundred years of blood, crimson, the ribbon tightens round my throat, I open my mouth and my head bursts open, a sound like a tiger thrashing in the water, thrashing in the water. Over and over, we die one after the other, over and over, we die one after the other, after the other, after the other, after the other, after the other.
It feels like a hundred years, one hundred years, one hundred years, one hundred years, one hundred years.
2. A short term effect.
Movement, no movement, just a falling bird, cold as it hits the bleeding ground, he lived and died, catch sight, cover me with earth, draped in black, static, white sound. A day without substance, a change of thought, an atmosphere that rots with time, colours that flicker in water, a short term effect.
Scream, as she tries to push him over, helpless and sick, with teeth of madness, jump, jump, dance and sing, sideways across the desert, a charcoal face, bites my hand, time is sweet, derange and disengage everything. A day without substance, a change of thought, the atmosphere rots with time, colours that flicker in water, a short term effect, a short term effect.
An echo and a stranger's hand, a short term effect. An echo and a stranger's hand, a short term effect.
3. The hanging garden.
Creatures kissing in the rain, shapeless in the dark again, in the hanging garden please don't speak, in the hanging garden no one sleeps.
Catching haloes on the moon, gives my hands the shapes of angels, in the heat of the night the animals scream, in the heat of the night walking into a dream. Fall, fall, fall, fall, into the walls, jump, jump, out of time, fall, fall, fall, fall, out of the sky, cover my face as the animals cry, in the hanging garden.
Creatures kissing in the rain, shapeless in the dark again, in a hanging garden change the past, in a hanging garden wearing furs and masks. Fall, fall, fall, fall, into the walls, jump, jump, out of time, fall, fall, fall, fall, out of the sky, cover my face as the animals cry, in the hanging garden, cover my face as the animals cry in the hanging garden…
4. Siamese twins.
I chose an eternity of this, like falling angels the world disappeared, laughing into the fire, is it always like this? Flesh and blood and the first kiss, the first colours, the first kiss.
We writhed under a red light, voodoo smile, siamese twins. A girl at the window looks at me for an hour, then everything falls apart, broken inside me it falls apart. The walls and the ceiling move in time, push a blade into my hands, slowly up the stairs and into the room, is it always like this? Dancing in my pocket, worms eat my skin, she glows and grows with arms outstretched, her legs around me, in the morning I cried.
Leave me to die, you won't remember my voice, I walked away and grew old, you never talk, we never smile, I scream, you're nothing, I don't need you any more, you're nothing. It fades and spins, fades and spins, sing out loud, we all die, laughing into the fire, is it always like this? Is it always like this? Is it always like this?
5. The figurehead.
Sharp and open, leave me alone and sleeping less every night, as the days become heavier and weighted, waiting in the cold light. A noise, a scream tears my clothes as the figurines tighten with spiders inside them, and dust on the lips of a vision of hell, I laughed in the mirror for the first time in a year.
A hundred other words blind me with your purity, like an old painted doll in the throes of dance, I think about tomorrow. Please let me sleep, as I slip down the window, freshly squashed fly, you mean nothing, you mean nothing.
I can lose myself in Chinese art and American girls, all the time lose me in the dark, please do it right. Run into the night, I will lose myself tomorrow, crimson pain, my heart explodes, my memory in a fire and someone will listen, at least for a short while, I can never say no to anyone but you.
Too many secrets, too many lies, writhing with hatred. Too many secrets, please make it good tonight, but the same image haunts me, in sequence, in despair of time, I will never be clean again, I touched her eyes, pressed my stained face, I will never be clean again. Touch her eyes, press my stained face, I will never be clean again…
6. A strange day.
Give me your eyes that I might see the blind man kissing my hands, the sun is humming, my head turns to dust as he plays on his knees. And the sand and the sea grows, I close my eyes, move slowly through drowning waves, going away on a strange day.
And I laugh as I drift in the wind, blind dancing on a beach of stone, cherish the faces as they wait for the end, a sudden hush across the water, and we're here again, and the sand and the sea grows, I close my eyes, move slowly through drowning waves, going away on a strange day.
My head falls backs and the walls crash down, and the sky and the impossible explode, held for one moment I remember a song, an impression of sound, then everything is gone forever, a strange day.
7. Cold.
Scarred, your back was turned, curled like an embryo, take another face, you will be kissed again. I was cold as I mouthed the words and crawled across the mirror, I wait, await the next breath, your name like ice into my heart.
A shallow grave, a monument to the ruined age, ice in my eyes and eyes like ice don't move, screaming at the moon, another past time, your name like ice into my heart.
Everything as cold as life, can no-one save you? Everything as cold as silence and you will never say a word, your name like ice into my heart.
8. Pornography.
A hand in my mouth, a life spills into the flowers, we all look so perfect as we all fall down, in an electric glare the old man cracks with age, she found his last picture in the ashes of the fire. An image of the queen echoes round the sweating bed, sour yellow sounds inside my head, in books and films, and in life, and in heaven, the sound of slaughter as your body turns, but it's too late, but it's too late.
One more day like today and I'll kill you, a desire for flesh and real blood, I'll watch you drown in the shower, pushing my life through your open eyes, I must fight this sickness, find a cure, I must fight this sickness.
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Año: 1982.
Procedencia de la banda: Crawley, Inglaterra.
· · ·
Año: 1982.
Procedencia de la banda: Crawley, Inglaterra.
· · ·
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